


Intergalactic Care Clinic ward F

by doobieace



Category: Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: (the hospital's 'treatment' can be seen as dub con), Angst and Fluff and Smut, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode: s04e10 Midnight, F/M, Gen, Mating Bond, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mildly Dubious Consent, Multi, Touch Telepathy, takes place after
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-20
Updated: 2018-09-04
Packaged: 2019-06-13 06:02:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 20,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15357831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doobieace/pseuds/doobieace
Summary: "I just want a mate." "Well you're not mating with me sunshine!" Several months after Donna starts traveling with the Doctor, their friendship is challenged when the Doctor is unexpectedly hit by his mating cycle.AKA, after a long line of terrible experiences the Doctor has had lately, things he's bottled up might finally be addressed.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I meant for this fic to sort of explore the Doctor's feelings at this point in series 4, especially after experiences in "The Doctor's Daughter" and "Midnight." I was also inspired by the exchange he and Donna have in "Partners in Crime" and wondering what the heck kind of reproductive process Time Lords have anyway. 
> 
> This story should only be a few chapters long, but I still have to finish the last few. This can be read as pre-relationship at the start, since I really doubt I'll be able to stick to a "just friends" relationship by the ending, lol. I appreciate any and all feedback!

The Doctor didn’t give the symptoms a second thought, dismissing them as mere after effects of whatever the creature on Midnight did to him.

After that close call on the shuttle bus, he was more shook up than usual. Donna gave him space, but he still spent more time alone in the TARDIS to recover and rest his mind from the assault. His hands would shake involuntarily, and he couldn't focus on anything for too long before his mind returned to that dark shuttle, paralyzed and helpless to save himself from the terrified, terrible people ready to murder him. Frequently he would make some excuse to Donna about working, making a free-for-all day, and then sit under the console staring blankly at wires and controls for hours.

The Doctor began to feel calmer within a week, more in control. More himself. He even mustered up the energy to take Donna on a short trip to one of the largest anti-gravity botanical gardens. It was a well-known, charted area with no poisonous sunlight whatsoever. Aside from some briar patches that floated a bit too close to the path, they were in absolutely no danger. No high-stakes choices to make. Arm-in-arm with Donna, walking down the path of glowing hyacinths and blue prickle-petals, breathing in the heady scents of life, the Doctor felt hints of his usual vigor return. He started to ramble to Donna about the plants he knew, their history, and they made guesses at some of the other odd-looking plants, such as the hairy trees and slimy cacti.

Donna smiled widely and leaned her head against the Doctor's arm. He was as happy as Donna was content. He was intimately aware of how worried she'd been for him the last several days. She didn't deserve that. He itched to make it up to her somehow. Possibly with an extravagant shopping trip, or an otherwise fantastic vacation spot. The Doctor wasn't too eager to jump back into a mystery destination. He had been having terrible luck with those lately.

On their way from the botanical garden's moon location the next day, the Doctor was tinkering with a module under a panel in the console room, absorbed in his task of making a circuit or two faster and more efficient. Donna had been spending a lot of time in the library or by the pool, but now she walked in the console room with a fresh mug of tea, still in her robe.

"Morning," she greeted the Doctor, setting the tea down in front of him.

"Oh for me? Thanks," the Doctor beamed, then a spark popped out of the circuit. He jumped, more startled than hurt, before licking his finger and digging back in.

Rolling her eyes, Donna knew it would be a waste of breath to tell him to use protective gear. Something was strange about him, though. She couldn't place her finger on it.

"Did you get any sleep last night?" she asked, trying to sound casual. The Doctor's sleeping habits had been even worse than usual recently. He either walked the halls at the night hours or worked in the console room until she found him there the next day, right where she left him.

"Some," the Doctor replied as casually.

"Well get some real rest soon, okay? A cat nap or something," Donna said. "I don't need you crashing the TARDIS after fainting from exhaustion."

She had been teasing, but a flash of irritation crossed the Doctor's face, and he shot her a fierce glare. Startled, Donna gasped and took a step back. Where did that come from?

Just as suddenly, the Doctor looked horrified. It must have been her gasp that made him realize.

"Oh, Donna, I'm sorry," he apologized wide-eyed, as if he had slapped her. Donna immediately felt guilty.

She waved it off. "No, I'm sorry, I overreacted," she mumbled.

"No you didn't," the Doctor said, shaking his head. He sighed heavily, fidgeting with the circuit in his hands. "Maybe I do need sleep. Last night I was..." He seemed to get lost in thought. "Too awake." He shrugged it off.

"Are you sure you're alright?" Donna asked more gently. The Doctor hadn't told her every detail of his experience on Midnight, but he had told her enough. She respected that he was trying to work through what had happened to him privately, but that meant he should be getting better.

"Of course! Just need to heat up a banana smoothie and catch up on sleep," the Doctor said, chipper again. He put the circuit back in place and started futzing with something else. "I've got it under control," he added, all smiles. If Donna didn't know him better, she would be fooled by that soft smile and not give a second thought to the way his eyes fluttered away too soon from hers, avoidant. Donna ignored it anyway. He just needed time.

"Alright, well, I'll be in the library if you need anything," Donna said. Before leaving, she reached out and squeezed his closest hand in warm reassurance. She felt his hand still, but she was already turning away from him and left the room.

When she was out of earshot, the Doctor made a strange, rasping gasp foreign to his own ears. Where she had touched him felt burned. He looked at it, lifting his hand to his eyes. It didn't look different. A tingling feeling replaced the burning. A wave of heat flashed through his whole body.

The Doctor grasped his shock of hair, racking his mind for what this could possibly be. Perhaps the touch of human body heat was shocking in comparison to the gnawing cold he had experienced only days ago, and he just needed to mentally adjust. Or he just needed sleep. It had to be his experience on Midnight that was affecting him, making his senses overreact to the simplest touches.

The thing was, his focus was off too. He had been on edge a lot recently and had had a strange night. For once not actively resisting sleep out of fear of the vulnerability in his dreams, the Doctor had spent the night absolutely wired, not feeling tired at all. In bed he had only felt warm and almost alert, yet calm. However, his concentration seemed to be going from bad to worse. The Doctor hit a wall when trying to connect these things. It was as if his reasoning was a volume knob, and someone had turned it down. Had the creature done that?

 _Why am I getting worse?_ the Doctor thought, worry bubbling inside him. But he wasn't fully panicked. A calming force was rising in him beside it, and the Doctor was mildly relieved that a full-force panic attack did not seem to be brewing this time. It was as if a protective barrier was blocking off the full force of any negative feelings. Dread pushed into the Doctor’s mind, like a warning, but not as much as the warmth. It was starting to overwhelm him. He was so hot. The TARDIS's environment settings must have malfunctioned. She was awfully quiet, too.

That was odd. The TARDIS was still a presence, but the Doctor was numbed to her. As if their telepathic connection was being interfered with.

"What?" the Doctor said aloud. Both of his hands now flew to his temples. His frustration only grew. _What is going on?_

Another wave of heat rolled through the Doctor. He moaned at the sensation, not sure where it was on the spectrum of pain and pleasure. He was too hot. He needed to get rid of his clothes. It took minutes just to get his tie off because his hands were trembling so much. Sweat gathered at his temples.

He was taking off his shoes when the shrinking voice inside him shouted in protest. This wasn't right. He had to stop and think, if he could just think. Gritting his teeth, the Doctor pulled out his sonic screwdriver, adjusting the settings to read his vitals, check for anything out of the ordinary to his physiology. The screwdriver whirred benignly, finding nothing wrong. “Come on come on come on,” the Doctor muttered.

There _was_ nothing wrong. In fact, the sonic device happily raised its volume at what it did find: a natural process for any Gallifreyan. An extra push from biology. Helpful.

He hurled the screwdriver far across the room, crying out in anguish. The ache in his body was building up. It was worse now with the knowledge that he couldn't be fulfilled. He fell to the floor behind the console, his hands covering his face. Shaking sobs racked his frame - he couldn't stop them – as his senses were bombarded by frustration and grief and shame, the heat predominating over them and overwhelming his thoughts. The Doctor could feel himself slipping away, his will preparing to collapse under the instinct of baser drives.

 _Stop stop stop._ He couldn't lose control like this, not here.

The Doctor acted with little thought. He powered up the TARDIS, launching into flight with seamless hits and pulls and jabs. Destination was set, and the Doctor was thrown back against the jumper seat. He threw his weight back against the console and strained his focus to keep at the controls.

"Doctor! Where are we going?" Donna appeared from the maze of hallways, grabbing on to a coral pillar as she was thrown forward.

Maintaining his focus, the Doctor couldn't reply. Beads of sweat dripped down his face, and the finer aspects of flying took multiples attempts as the Doctor's shaking hands slipped on a crank or missed buttons.

Donna's shouts were lost in the clamor and the Doctor's own tunnel vision. He worked furiously, and at last they came to an abrupt stop that shook the ship. The Doctor grabbed his coat, nearly running for the door.

"Doctor! Where are we? Wait!" Donna chased after him. She managed to catch his wrist, stopping them both for the moment. But the Doctor cried out, his back hitting the wall as he flinched away from her. He snatched his wrist away from her as quickly as if she had burned him.

The Doctor's eyes were wild and he was breathing heavily. "Donna, I can't explain." When she motioned to reach for him again, he flattened himself against the wall. His eyes closed tight and his fists clenched. Donna watched frightfully as he caught a rasping breath and held it, as if commanding his lungs to cease.

"I need to handle something," the Doctor said, his voice strained. "You can't help. Stay in the TARDIS for a few days, you'll be safe. Please."

He edged his stiff body to the door, an increasingly pained look spreading across his features.

"You're scaring me, Doctor," Donna said.

"Trust me," he said through gritted teeth. "Stay here.” With that he cracked open the door, slipped out, and slammed it shut.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those that need a warning, this is a reminder of the dubious consent tag. It is mostly in this chapter but is meant to be upsetting.

Donna stayed in the TARDIS for hours, hardly doing anything but worry about the Doctor. She paced around the main room, going back and forth between her options. She trusted him. Completely. If he needed her to do anything, no matter how bonkers it seemed at the moment, she would do it. How difficult could it be to sit still for a few days? She had done other things for him with less explanation.

Donna learned that this was easier said than done as each agonizing moment went by.

After the second day, Donna was determined to go after him. It was unbearable being kept in the dark, a sitting duck, useless to the Doctor. Anything could have gone wrong by now. Knowing him, he was probably finding some sort of trouble. And what emergency, as the situation had definitely seemed, could take days to handle? Why would he leave her behind? Donna puzzled over this, but then again, the Doctor didn't have the best track record for properly assessing his need for backup.

God – and the last time he was alone. Donna's guilt and worry replayed in her mind the Doctor's phone call asking her to come along on the Midnight shuttle, how she turned him down, and his shaken look when he returned. The worst possibility kept growing with every moment she sat on her hands and did nothing.

Finally, unable to wait another moment, Donna stepped out of the TARDIS early the next day. When she stepped out the TARDIS door, there was a cool breeze, and she wrapped her jacket tighter around her.

It was a barren planet. Gray and white rock stretched for miles, leading to mountains in the far distance. Donna turned around and backed up. The TARDIS was in a small alley, more of a niche, between two buildings. Great, looming white buildings. Donna's jaw dropped. They were the only notable landmarks on whatever gray planet the Doctor had taken them. Donna felt insignificantly small looking up at the larger building's entrance.

Happy, nude statues were carved around rectangular pools bordering the steps. The only bit of color was a large green circular symbol on the face of the building, like a crescent moon. But there was no time to ogle the architecture - she had to find the Doctor.

After going past the steps, the lobby was very disappointing. The interior seemed more like a hospital than the grand art museum or library it appeared to be on the outside. The room was all white, even the walls, though there were a scattering of bland paintings put up around the place. Donna walked across the marble floor. She passed by a bald man sitting on a sofa, his bright yellow eyes staring straight through the newspaper-like article he was holding. _I've seen that look,_ Donna thought. _I bet my hatbox this is a waiting room._

Donna reached what appeared to be a front desk. There were a few people there, some of them human and others a bit hairy. They all wore crisp, baby-blue colored robes, moving about business as usual. A woman with a white face and whiskers sat behind the counter. She faced some sort of computer module. Donna tried not to gape as she faced what appeared to be a _real_ cat person. She had seen Ood, after all.

"Welcome to the Intergalactic Care Clinic, how can I help you today?" the cat lady said disinterestedly.

"Hi. Erm...What is this place?" Donna asked.

The woman gave Donna a once-over, a mild look of interest on her face. Her nametag read "Kerse: Head Nurse."

"I just said," Kerse frowned. She pointed at the same green moon symbol from the front of the building that was hanging on the wall. "Hospital."

"Right, right," Donna said hurriedly. "Is there...someone who came in a few days ago? Called himself the Doctor?"

The cat woman's face became stern. "That's doctor-patient confidentiality, miss. We take things like that very seriously here, especially in this section."

"But you have seen him?" Donna asked. "Skinny bloke, brown hair and a suit?"

Kerse sighed impatiently. "Are you a relative?"

"Well, no," Donna said. Kerse rolled her eyes and turned away, walking over to some file cabinets.

"But - hey, we're not related, but I'm the only one he's got!" Donna called after her, voice rising in desperation. Her hands gripped the cold marble desk. "I'm just worried. He didn't even explain where he was going, and that's not like him. I just need to know what's happened."

The cat woman took pity on her. "He did check in a couple days ago," Kerse admitted. "We're taking good care of him, so there's no need for you to worry."

"What's wrong with him?" Donna asked, heartbeat quickening.

"You know what section this is?" the cat woman asked.

"No," Donna said. She looked around for any clues, but there were not many extra signs, just smooth white surfaces and labelled arrows on the walls, presumably directions for the staff to use.

"Well," Kerse sighed. "It might be a few more days until your friend is released." Kerse pulled out a file with a form, and then another sheet. "Could we have your contact information?"

"I'm not bothering with that," Donna scoffed. "I need to see him. I don't care how sick he is."

"I'm sorry, but only close relatives are allowed visitation," Kerse insisted. She pushed the form towards Donna. "Once he is better, we can call you to receive him."

Donna muttered a curse and snatched the form, stalking back to the waiting area. She stopped in her tracks after a few steps, considering. Sick of waiting, Donna would do anything to make sure the Doctor was alright. If he really was ill, he wouldn’t mind if she fudged the truth a little bit. Donna turned back to the front desk.

"Excuse me," Donna said, giving her best newly-hired temp smile. "But you said only relatives were allowed in, and I assumed you didn't mean fiancées?"

Kerse's eyes widened. She regarded Donna, crossing her arms. "If you are his fiancée, you can see him," she said warily.

Donna sighed internally with relief. She didn't like the look the cat lady was giving her now, though. It was a mixture of pity and something else.

"Do you have proof of your relationship?" Kerse asked. She pulled out a file, and Donna’s keen temp eyes caught the 'S' labelled at the top of the folder she flipped open.

Donna thought fast. "Well, in his culture we don't have rings or anything. I know quite a bit about him, though." _More or less,_ Donna thought. She had been collecting a mental list of things she knew about the Doctor, from the occasional fact she learned of Time Lord history or physiology to the Doctor's quirks, like how he was rubbish at making tea or how he pulled on his earlobe when he was unsure of what to say.

"Full name?" Kerse asked.

"Donna Noble," Donna said.

"No, his," the cat woman replied.

"Right," Donna corrected. "Everyone just calls him the Doctor." She noted Kerse's expectant look and thought of the 'S' on the file. Had he used an alias here?

"...But his full name is Dr. John Smith," Donna added. Kerse seemed satisfied with this answer, but Donna kept going to make their fake engagement seem more credible. "We met a few years back and have been traveling together a while now. I'm a bit daft in comparison to him, but I don't think he could last a day without me. Truth is, I probably couldn't either. Guess I'm lucky to have him." Donna smiled to herself, then glanced back at Kerse and cleared her throat.

"We're going to get married soon, but now he's pulled this stunt. No explanation." Donna gestured dismissively to put on an exasperated air, trying not to look as worried as she felt.

"I'm not surprised he didn't tell you, miss," Kerse said, then pushed over the form. It was already filled out in spots.

"Could you help us finish his chart? There are several areas he didn't complete," Kerse said.

"Hold on. Why aren't you surprised?" Donna asked. She knew the Doctor had plenty of pride, but Kerse couldn't know that. What was strange is that the Doctor was bad at hiding when something was wrong, even if he didn't talk about it. Whatever was going on with him, he usually still found comfort in the presence of Donna and the TARDIS. He never got ill anyway, but Donna doubted he would run and hide from her just because of a case of the man flu. So why did he?

She pushed the form away. "I need to see him," Donna demanded.

The cat woman pushed back her chair and came around. "Follow me."

Donna walked behind, unsure, as Kerse lead the way. As they walked down the dimly lit halls, Donna's heartbeat picked up in dread. She tried to ignore it. They were getting closer to the Doctor, which was what mattered.

"The emergency care ward is on this level, just down hallway F here," Kerse was explaining. They pushed through a set of doors, and more cat nurses hurried past them.

Kerse stopped at a shut door, peering through the door's small window. "Ah, there he is," Kerse said neutrally. Bright white light came through the window, and Donna had to stretch her neck a bit to look in. The room was incredibly white, narrow and long, but with a high ceiling. It was lit far brighter than the dim hallway in which they stood.

Eyes adjusting, it took Donna a moment to register what her eyes found in the clinical space. On the far side on the room, much closer to the opposite door, was a raised table or cot, just as white as the rest of the room. On top of it laid the Doctor, his shock of brown hair giving him away, but there was no relief as Donna processed the scene. Donna saw her friend stark naked in the white room, and above him was another person, intimately close, moving in such a rhythm that made the Doctor's limp body twitch with it.

Donna flinched back from the window. "What the hell?" Donna gasped. "What are you doing to him?!"

Glancing through the window, the cat woman was unruffled, and then she turned to give Donna a slightly pitying look.

"We could use your help in better understanding his physiology, since you know him," Kerse said. "Even if it doesn't seem like you...were aware of your fiancé's biological needs. This must be a shock to you."

"You're damn - right," Donna gasped, the wind knocked out of her. The cat woman’s demeanor was almost more disturbing than what she saw in the room. Donna grasped the wall and shot a fiery glare at the nurse. "What is this? Get him out of there, and when we leave we're calling the flippin' space cops on this place." Her voice was low and rose in volume as her anger grew beyond the shock.

Kerse's spread out her hands placatingly, and her tone became gentler. "I'm sorry you had to find out like this.” Her voice more insistent, she continued, “But he walked in here with the express purpose of having us treat his condition. Now we're doing the best we can, but we need your help here."

From her light blue, gloved hand, Kerse handed over a paper. Donna felt dizzy. She put more of her weight against the wall, eventually glancing down at the sheet. It was the unfinished form. In messy handwriting, but still recognizable as the Doctor's, was printed "John Smith" and a few circled areas.

Two sections were labelled in bold: MATING/FERTILITY. The Doctor had circled "Early Stage," "Emergency Care," and to the question "Do you have a mate for us to contact?" circled "No."

Donna squeezed her eyes shut, then looked back through the window. The Doctor was on his stomach, head turned to the side, his face therefore not visible to Donna. Over him loomed what was shaped like a human, male, but it was hard to tell because of the distance and the rubber gray suit covering the form's whole body. Its hands were tight on the Doctor's thin waist, and it mechanically pushed into the Doctor. Donna couldn't hear anything through the glass, but she doubted that the Doctor wasn't making any noise; one of his fists tightly gripped the edge of the table and his shoulders were tense. Suddenly, the Doctor’s hands clenched, and his whole body froze and shuddered before going utterly limp. A moment passed, and the gray figure detached itself from the man.

Kerse pulled Donna away from the window. "We haven't seen a condition quite like his before," she said, finally looking uncomfortable. "It has been days, and his temperature is still high. His higher thinking has also been impacted, but no inklings of awareness have returned. We're doing our best to treat the symptoms."

"Symptoms?" Donna repeated dazedly, glancing back at the window.

"Listen, don't feel bad. We get a lot of cases like these. Especially with interspecies couples. Unmarried or ashamed, individuals hit with their particular mating cycle need to seek outside treatment and come here. There's not exactly a treatment - that would be properly mating - but we are keeping the symptoms from getting ugly. It will take longer than the natural way, but avoiding it for most species isn't fatal (which would be species suicide, honestly). He must have been trying to save your virtue for marriage, then, hm?"

"We're not the same species. I had no idea." Donna turned again to the window. The Doctor was alone, laying on his side with most of his body covered with a white sheet. Donna's heart ached.

She said, "Open the door."

"He won't be able to communicate," Kerse said. "And he needs rest."

Donna shot her a glare that seemed to do the trick, because the nurse pulled out a key and unlocked the door with only minor hesitation. Kerse pushed open the door and Donna took a step inside, eyes adjusting to the brightness of the room, before running over to the Doctor.

"Oh," Donna gasped, looking at him curled up on the table as disregarded as a lab experiment in the harsh white room. The Doctor's eyes were closed, but he was minutely shaking. Sweat beaded his forehead, and Donna felt how warm he was even before touching him. Tears rushing down her face, Donna ran her hand through his disheveled hair. One of his hands stuck out from the sheet and she held fast to it, squeezing tight. He had been alone like this for days?

"I'm here, Doctor," she whispered, smoothing his hair. She squeezed his warm hand even tighter. "I'm here, I'm so sorry."

Donna didn't know how long she stayed like that, caressing the Doctor, gazing at his exhausted face. The cat woman Kerse eventually tapped on Donna's shoulder.

"This is strange. He's not usually this calm for so long." Kerse frowned and whipped out a device, pressing it against the Doctor's neck. Donna made a noise of protest, but Kerse pulled it away just as quick as it came.

Donna continued to stroke the Doctor's face. He was breathing deeply, evidently asleep or in some kind of fatigued state, but he didn't seem in pain. Donna noticed that his other hand, of the arm he was laying on, had a medical band on the wrist, as well as what appeared to be a leash. The wire went down the other side of the table and was welded to one of the legs.

"His neurohormones have lowered," Kerse said, impressed. She threw a significant look at Donna. "For a humanoid, his levels have been off the charts since he arrived. We've been struggling to keep them from spiking too high. He's needed frequent attention. This is the best he's stabilized for days," Kerse murmured, slightly befuddled as she looked back down at the device's data in her hand.

"That's because he's got me," Donna said firmly. "I'm staying with him until he gets better."

"Now Ms. Noble," Kerse started. "The patient needs to stay confined for obvious reasons - "

"I’m not leaving him," Donna said. She fixed the cat woman with a stern expression. "And no more of - of what was being done to him."

"I must insist. He came to be treated here, and this is our treatment for him - "

"Well he's not better, is he?" Donna challenged. "Kept in a cold room and chained to a table like an animal. You call this place a hospital?"

Kerse's faced flushed beneath her light fur, but she tightened her expression. "Right now, he's more like an animal than like you or me. All his higher brain functions are compromised. Obviously, you have never encountered species with mating needs before, otherwise you would understand. He needs this, regardless of how you may feel about it."

Donna glanced down at the Doctor. Her hand grasped his hotter one, and her resolve wavered slightly. Would he be in more pain if he wasn't...if a stranger didn’t use his body? Would it take him longer to regain his senses, if ever?

"He wasn't in his right mind when he made this decision," Donna said slowly. "He's compromised, like you said. I want to care for him my way."

The cat woman folded her arms. "His signature on the form. We're legally not allowed to release him until he is better."

"I can take care of him here, then," Donna said. "There shouldn't be rules against that. I'll need a few things, though."


	3. Chapter 3

The hospital staff gave in to Donna's demands well enough, especially after she made vague threats to call a hospital inspection agency that could get them shut down. Who was to say that the Shadow Proclamation didn’t have a Health and Safety division?

They got an earful of just what exactly Donna thought of their “treatment” program, and she had worked for enough companies to know exactly where their sore spots were. The largest hospital in the sector with a specialty in interspecies reproductive and fertility issues didn't need scandal to be kicked up. Discretion and respect for patients were their top priorities, so the Intergalactic Care Clinic acquiesced quickly.

A bed, just as white and plain as the rest of the room, was brought into the room. A bed was far better than a table no matter the color, and Donna felt relieved to move the Doctor from the cold surface with his thin sheet to the far softer bed.

The room temperature was made only slightly warmer because Kerse insisted that the Doctor's body temperature needed encouragement to cool down. Strangely, the Doctor couldn’t eat or drink anything. He hadn’t needed any replenishment since he arrived, other than sleep. Kerse reported that most of his body's processes appeared to have gone into a stasis or hibernation state during the pursuit of its “priority goal.”

All Donna could do was watch over him. They gave her a cool washcloth on a separate supply table as well as some water, and she would dampen and apply the cool washcloth to the Doctor's forehead, occasionally replacing it. Avoiding the country matron vibes this dull task was giving her, Donna smugly thought of the whipping she had given the clinic’s small board members, relishing the lives-flashing-before-their-eyes looks some of them had gotten.

“You should have seen their faces,” Donna said aloud to the unconscious Doctor. “You would have had a laugh. Being my fiancé comes with some perks, you know, when you think about it. It’s not all bad. We’ll just have to keep an eye out for giant spiders.”

Momentarily sobered again, Donna leaned back in her bedside chair. It had been several hours since she had found the Doctor. She guessed from her departure from the TARDIS that it was about night now. The Doctor had done nothing but sleep all day, but she had still requested the duty nurse to dim the white room's lights for a couple hours. It was mostly for Donna, in order to gain a sense of normality.

Sitting on the side of the bed next to the sleeping Doctor, who was thoroughly covered by a puffy white blanket (the blanket and pillows probably stuffed with the feathers of some alien bird), Donna was getting pretty tired herself. Her racing thoughts now had time to catch up with the day’s events, and in the dimly lit room and with the Doctor’s back to her, Donna turned the situation over in her mind.

How long would it take the Doctor to return to normal? He was still fastened by the wrist to a chord that was now attached to a bedpost. Kerse had insisted. None of the assisting nurses nor Kerse knew how long the Doctor's situation would last. Was the reality here really that he either needed to be violated by a stranger or die?

That was the part that irked Donna the most. The Doctor had only just been recovering from his experience on Midnight, and now here he was.

Despite her need to keep vigil over the Doctor, she felt her eyelids getting heavier. The pull of sleep was far too irresistible. Letting herself get more comfortable should be fine, she reasoned. The Doctor wasn’t going anywhere.

Donna laid back. She could feel warmth radiating from the Doctor, even across the wide space between them in the bed. Leaning against a soft pillow, Donna was starting to feel very comfortable.

Suddenly the Doctor whimpered, and Donna’s attention snapped back into place from the comfortable nebulous doze she had been in.

His face was pushed into the fluffy pillow, dampening it with sweat. He pulled the blanket tighter around him, his arms wrapping around himself.

"Doctor?" Donna whispered. It was almost like he was dreaming, or in his state, more in a fever dream. She tentatively touched his covered arm, and no wonder the bed was warm: he was burning up. Even so, the Doctor shivered.

"It's alright,” Donna said, knowing it was more to convince herself. She reached under the blanket and pulled him into her arms.

Underneath the blanket the Doctor was wrapped in the sheet, which separated the two of them, but Donna still felt the intense heat coming off of him. Ignoring the sweltering warmth, she pulled him close. Her arms wrapped around his thin middle.

Too thin, Donna scowled to herself. She teased him about it, but alien or not, he needed to take better care of himself. She hadn’t seen him actually eat anything in weeks. Her arms wound around him more firmly.

"I got you," Donna murmured into his shoulder. Even though tired and a bit overwhelmed, she determinedly held fast to the feverish Doctor.

Hours seemed to pass that way in the calm, quiet ward, nothing but the sound of their breathing filling the small space around them.

Eventually she drifted off, and the Doctor's heat became not unpleasant in the cool room. It spread through her body and nestled inside her chest. A hint of a dream played on the edge of Donna’s senses, and she wanted to reach out and touch it. Like a hand reaching out. Never let go of it. And stay there. She sighed.

Suddenly, she was jolted awake by movement. It had been only slight, but Donna craned her neck to check the Doctor. His breathing had quickened and his face was set in a pained grimace. He seemed to be stirring, though his eyes were still fixed closed.

"Doctor? Can you hear me?" She aimed for soothing, but probably came out more strained.

Her sweaty arms were still clasped around him. He turned in her embrace, his body now facing hers and bringing them closer than ever. His eyes opened only narrowly, unfocused and unseeing as he wound his arms around Donna, curling his body around hers.

Breathing heavily, the Doctor nuzzled into Donna's bosom, and she was grateful for wearing something less low-cut. Thinking he just wanted to be extra cuddly, Donna started to relax in their new position. After a few moments, however, the Doctor suddenly gave a sharp inhale, tensing up.

Surprised, Donna saw tears prick at the corners of his closed eyes. He then opened them, only slivers of brown peering through. Gaze unfocused, he craned his neck to look up at Donna from his lower position in her arms. Donna wasn't sure how much awareness he had. The Doctor clutched even tighter to Donna.

"Please," he said, tears welling in his eyes, closing them again. Donna's heart broke. He murmured more words, inaudible, perhaps not even in English. “Help,” he gasped.

This last word was punctuated by a shudder from the Doctor's body, and he nudged against Donna's thigh with his lower body, his entire form flush against hers. Oh. _Oh_ -

He was obviously more awake than had ever been since the process had started, and desperate. Donna could feel his desperation rubbing against her thigh. The warmth Donna had felt before was all-pervading, turning her stomach to jelly, and she strained to keep a cool head.

What the hell was she supposed to do? Toss him off the bed? If Donna did, the nurses would come running. Tethered to the wrist now, they might see him as a dangerous patient. They would tie him to a table, and she wouldn’t put it past them to even throw him in a cage. Then they would bring in some rubber-suited Goliath to take care of the problem.

Donna couldn’t let them do that to him. It was inhumane and horribly degrading. To see the Doctor, a proud Time Lord, treated that way...No. Why the hell had he brought himself here, done this to himself?

The Time Lord shuddered, clinging to Donna like a lifeline. He couldn't control any of this, Donna thought. He had no choice but to suffer through it, and it was burning him up.

It wasn't fair. He could always help other people, whole cities or planets, but when it came to himself the Doctor was helpless. Donna couldn’t imagine what it was like to be alone as he was, and unable to contact his people for emergencies like this. But the Doctor had her. They had each other. And, Donna thought frustratingly, it was too damn warm in this bed.

"Alright, Spaceman," Donna said quietly. The Doctor whimpered quietly into her side, his motions more persistent.

Donna turned on her side, facing the profusely sweating Doctor. Her hand traveled downwards and grasped him, and he immediately made a surprised moan that fell into a sigh. Donna fell into feeling and rhythm, engulfed in the warmth. She worked his member with long motions that were the best she could with the angle, but the Doctor didn’t complain, his fidgeting and moans doubling.

He moved in rhythm with Donna's hand, his little noises increasing in volume with excitement. Bloody hell, Donna never needed to know any of this, but it was so warm and everything felt too good anyway.

He wasn’t himself, she cared to think halfheartedly, and he needed her. _Oh how he needed her._ His hands grasped her sides and spread more of the blazing heat through her.

The Doctor panted against her chest audibly, occasionally grinding his teeth together with a moan.

His movements become more abrupt as his body tensed, close to climax. A frustrated whine drew out of him, and Donna’s worry melted against her own frustration.

"I've got you, sweetheart," Donna breathed.

Finally, the Doctor came in her hand with a soft cry, and with a shout Donna came too, the simultaneous orgasm hitting her with surprise and pleasure, greeting it with a moan. Her hand stilled tight on the Doctor as he stiffened against her, both of them trembling, and whose sounds were whose became indistinguishable. The Doctor’s arms tightened and then relaxed around her. The heat subsided, and only seconds later, he was in a deep sleep as before.

Panting heavily, it took several moments for Donna to regain her breath. She turned away from the Doctor to lay on her back, once more on the other side of the bed. The Doctor’s arms still grasped her sides, so there was only a limited range of movement she could make while her heart calmed down. Most of that intoxicating warmth eased away as Donna cooled down literally and mentally.

Feelings that had been thrown aside gradually returned to Donna as she realized the insanity of what had just occurred. It couldn’t have been real. That couldn’t have happened, but the evidence was too obvious to her. She took a deep breath, trying to calm down. Wrapping her head around _what_ had happened would have to come later. Now, Donna would clean them off and have a talk with a nurse. Specifically, about how much longer this illness of the Doctor's would last.

She would see whether they had they made any progress on a treatment other than their current approach, the one Donna had unwittingly fallen into.

Moving to get up, Donna glanced down at the Doctor's face once more. He was as peaceful as she had ever seen him, in what appeared to be a deep, dreamless sleep that smoothed his features. Satisfied with what he got, for now at least. Donna blushed in embarrassment.

"Daft alien," Donna grumbled, before leaving the bed. She ignored the strange, empty and indescribable feeling that weighed down inside of her as she left behind the Doctor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, feedback and kudos are much appreciated! Next chapter, Donna reflects on what the hell happened, and the Doctor 's condition continues.


	4. Chapter 4

Already the damn cat nurses knew. As Donna left the Doctor alone to sleep, she went to get updated from the nurses in a separate office and, unfortunately for Donna’s pride, to fill them in on the latest development. They had already guessed what had happened between the two of them based on the readings they received about the Doctor's vitals and hormone surges, which were being monitored constantly.

Of course they were, Donna thought disgruntledly. She was torn between embarrassment at the lack of privacy but also grudging understanding at the precaution. The nurses were consummate professionals as they listened to her and went to check on their patient.

However, Donna noticed smug, "I-told-you-so" and “of-course-you-did” looks from head nurse Kerse.

“He _is_ your fiancé,” she said, and if Donna hadn’t been relieved that the cat woman’s suspicion of her was gone, she would have punched her in her tiny pink nose.

As a nurse escorted her to a nearby room to clean off, Donna fumed at the very idea that she had wanted any of this to happen. Kerse’s tone insinuated that Donna had somehow planned this, and Donna could just imagine the cat nurse spinning a juicy version of the events to tell her colleagues. Donna had been around enough gossips from breakrooms full of bored secretaries to know the type.

 _“So an engaged couple comes in, we think this human doesn’t know a thing about her fiancé’s mating process, and that he was saving her for marriage. Well, first chance she gets she takes him for herself! Poor bloke must’ve been too prudish, and she got impatient, maybe timed this whole thing…”_  Donna’s guilt made the words echo in her mind as if someone had actually said them.

Alone in an adjacent washroom, she took a quick, cold shower. Droplets of water ran down her feet and on to the white tiles of the stall. White was bloody everywhere, enclosing her, and the encroachment seemed to make Donna paler as she stood longer in the chilling spray. With her peach skin and freckles, Donna felt completely out of place in the sterile, expressionless environment.

The heat of an hour ago was rapidly fading in to memory, but anxiety lit a fire in Donna’s gut. Her head spun with a jumble of nervous thoughts.

This all must have been very amusing to the staff, but they could not have known the shame Donna felt. What did it matter? The staff thought they were a couple anyway. But Donna knew better. The Doctor was off his head, and he needed to be taken care of, and Donna was the only one who could do that properly, and now she had messed it up. She had taken advantage of him in his vulnerable state. What would he say to her when he woke up? If he woke up?

He had caught her off guard, she rationalized, face reddening, and hoped to God the Doctor wouldn't remember any of it. That would just make it bearable in order to stay with him and in the TARDIS. If there was a second round of alien sexual advances, Donna would NOT be caught off guard again. She would fling herself off the bed if she had to. If she needed to break his arm it would probably repair itself quickly enough anyway. Anything to get away from the Doctor's tight grip and desperate pleas.

Just nothing to alert the nurses, Donna realized. She couldn’t get him in further trouble than he had already put himself in.

Honestly, she couldn't even let him pick the destinations anymore. Keeping them both out of trouble, Donna would just need to learn to fly the TARDIS herself.

Her thoughts jumped back to the problem at hand: she couldn’t let it happen again.

Donna had them tie up the Doctor, under her supervision. She didn't want to be taken by surprise if he suddenly trapped her in his arms again. They used thick chords around the Doctor's wrists and ankles, the task easy enough since he was too deep in sleep to struggle against them. Donna made sure the rope was still loose enough to be comfortable; just enough that he couldn't break free when he set against it.

She convinced herself that this was different than letting the hospital tie him up for their own purposes. She was here to look after the Doctor, and she would make sure he wasn't being mistreated.

However, keeping a constant eye on him proved to be more difficult than expected. An alien in heat must be one thing to deal with, but the hospital dealt with him on a clinical level. Donna didn't know how much she could do for the Doctor, but the hospital could work on alternative treatments while she was there for him as a friend.

After the hot night in the cool room and Donna’s shower (hurried so she could get back to the Doctor as soon as possible to keep an eye out for any funny business), the nurses made the arrangements Donna had specified.

There wasn't much else to do but watch him, since he still couldn't eat. He didn't have the consciousness for it, and the only times he was more aware was when he was ready for and seeking sexual contact. It was another day gone by, and Donna worried that they would need to feed him through an IV, but Kerse assured her that their patient was in "perfect health" aside from his "condition.”

Donna didn't push the matter, since she knew – from the Doctor’s past insisting claims - that Time Lords needed a lot less food and sleep to get by. Still, it was strange for her to see him sleep so much, when it was usually so rare for him to even want to sit still for a second before running off to the next adventure.

The Doctor slept through most of the next day, shivering and mumbling and burning hot under his bundled blankets. With nothing to do but unable to go far, Donna paced the room, the jittery feelings remaining in her gut, and occasionally checked with the nurses for any change in his condition.

Unchanging, for the most part - but as the day wore on the Doctor seemed to get worse.

His hormones, a nurse suggested to Donna, could be working in a cyclical pattern, spiking every 8-12 hours. This would actually be progress, because apparently in the first few days their patient had needed attention every hour. He had only started improving like this since his fiancée arrived, but that was probably just a coincidence as his natural cycle started to peter out, a nurse with red fur suggested.

Watching the Doctor buried in his blankets panting heavily and his face screwed up in pain, Donna worried that the nurses had got it horribly wrong. He didn't seem to be improving at all.

What if Donna had made him worse by interfering, and now his body was burning him up from the inside? She had no idea how a process like this worked, especially one that had so completely incapacitated someone as stubborn and resilient as the Doctor. Every whimper and groan would pierce her heart, but she was determined to see him get better through toughing it out. It couldn't be impossible, because how else would a species survive? Donna hoped this stupid biological process would give up to let the Doctor live - and hence, procreate - another day.

The Doctor didn't move much in the first place, so Donna wasn't worried as much about the ropes hurting him. They would become uncomfortable if - rather, when - he started to struggle against them.

As mostly expected by the staff, he was hit by another hormone spike in the evening. Donna sat beside his bed, hand placed on top of his bounded hands, squeezing the one on top. It stopped her from pacing and calmed her down just to be near him - something about the cool heat of his hands was reassuring.  

He wasn’t faring much better. The washcloth she pressed to his forehead did little good as the Doctor started to tense up, breathing forcefully through clenched teeth.

When he started to pull against the ropes, Donna was certain for a moment that he would break them. He squirmed and pulled harder as he seemed to become more aware of being bound. His breathing turned into fast gasps as he pulled at the bonds, as if he suddenly couldn't draw enough air from the room.

"I'm here, Doctor," Donna said soothingly, maintaining her grip on his hand. "You'll be fine, just hold on."

He moaned, and his body curled in on itself, his face burrowing into his arms, and his legs, also bound, pulling up to his chest. Pained gasps made his shoulders shudder.

"Everything will be alright," Donna murmured, brow furrowed. Even as she spoke the words she hardly believed, she desperately wanted them to be true. Wishful thinking, if not exactly proven helpful, at least could not be that harmful. And so it was best to keep repeating the words to herself, even as she watched the Doctor being tortured from the inside out.

At another sharp inhale and gasping moan, Donna's other hand flew to his face.

"Shh, shh," she tried to soothe even as her desperation built. Her hand cradled his jaw as she tried to brush away a few stray tears that had leaked out from his tightly shut eyes.

Abruptly, the Doctor sighed as if in a sudden reprieve from the pain. He leaned his face into her touch, lifting his head from its tear-stained spot. Donna almost took her hand away in surprise. She watched him relax into her touch, his whole body becoming just a little less tense.

Pausing for a brief moment, Donna closely considered his face before pulling both her hands away from him, off of his hand and face. The reaction was just as sudden as when she had touched him: he shuddered and gave a small cry, his body tensing and curling in on itself again. Sweat glistened on his once more tightly-knit brow.

Before Donna could react to this new information, the Doctor's bound hands reached out to her from the bed. Startled, Donna looked at the Doctor, whose eyes shot open. Panting heavily, a mix of pain and frustration on his face, the Doctor stared at her with wide, wet eyes. He stared right at her, and this focus sent a jolt through her body.

"Doctor?" Donna tried. His fixed gaze stayed on her, hands still reaching out. "Do you know where you are? Do you know who I am?"

"Please," he pleaded wetly, tears flowing freely, lower lip wobbling.

"Please what? What do you need?"

He didn't respond. His eyes wandered away from hers, confusion mixing with the pain on his face. His gaze found the spot where his wrists were tied, and as if suddenly reminded, he started to tug at them again.

Donna reached out carefully. She brushed her fingers slightly over his, and he jerked in surprise. His eyes flew back to hers, wilder than before.

He cried out a few words, but the words were foreign to her ears and strangely accented. Her throat swelled with emotion at the look on his face.

"I can't," Donna said, feeling wretched and useless. "I can't give you what you need."

He kept looking at her with desperation and a twinge of hope.

Donna forced herself to look away. _Give an inch, and he might want the whole mile._

The Doctor gave a shout and doubled over, his arms pulled in towards his stomach and eyes squeezed shut once more as he grimaced and his breathing grew fast and ragged.

Two nurses rushed into the room, furry faces pulled into expressions of alarm.

"His levels are dangerously high! What are you doing?"

Donna, emotionally and physically drained, snapped at them. "I'm not doing anything," she said irritably. "He's having another spike, like you lot said would happen."

"We need to treat him," the one with darker fur said, glaring at Donna. "This has gone on long enough."

"Not unless you have any new ideas." She cast a determined glare at them.

"There are no other options," the other one, the short one, insisted.

At the nurse’s step forward, Donna clutched the Doctor protectively, and in a smooth motion her hands were on his clammy ones and she stood up and turned around to fully shield him from the nurses.

"No." She maintained her glare. "Get out."

The nurses shared a glance. The short one glanced down at a device with a "hm" while the dark-furred one threw up her hands and stalked out of the room, muttering about prudish, selfish humans.

Donna swallowed a lump in her throat, but her anger kept her steady.

"Please reconsider," the short one said, her tone defeated, blonde furry face displeased. She waved up her small information device. "And maintain contact. He's slightly more stable than a few minutes ago."

Blondie started to leave, but then turned and leveled her gaze at Donna. "If you don't _help_ him and he spikes again, we'll be back."

Donna caught the special emphasis on “help.” She sat back down on the bedside chair. Alone again, Doctor at her side, Donna considered their situation. She still clutched his hand, and the warm contact steadied her thoughts. There must be a better way.

What was it? Skin-on-skin contact seemed to help stabilize him. He got dramatically worse when she pulled away, and the nurse noticed too. Was it the warmth he liked? His hormones were in overdrive, so maybe that was making him sensitive to touch. Based on how much he craved contact, maybe his body just needed touch from another person to ease some of those urges. If that was the case, then...

Donna smiled as she realized. She could do a bit more than hold his hand!

Her clothes were flung off so hurriedly that her dress caught around an arm as she pulled it off, but concern for the Doctor made her bite back the curses aimed at the clothing. Eventually she was down to her underclothes.

Mostly naked, Donna stood by the bed and looked down at the Doctor's pathetic form nervously. Hopefully the ropes would be enough to hold off another...encounter.

She got into the bed, snuggling up close to the Doctor. She tried to get as much of their skin touching as possible, as modestly as she would go, the sheet still covering any alien bum. Her legs mingled with his, and she was flush against him up to settling her chin in the crook of his neck. The Doctor let out a large sigh that related so much tension finally being released, and Donna relaxed against his warm body, nearly crying in relief herself at the feeling of having him secure in her arms.

She held the Doctor through the night, and it seemed to help him. He stopped shivering after a while and snuggled into her hold. Shutting her eyes with her face pressed into his bare upper back, Donna could feel him nuzzle his cheek against her arm, like a kitten. Donna smiled slightly to herself, gripping his middle a bit tighter.

Then her smile quickly faded. A couple days ago, he might have had the strength to break her hold - now, however, his strength was fading. Whether this was a good sign of recovery or a bad one for his health, she wasn’t sure.

Either the process was waning to an end naturally and making the Doctor less crazed, or it was draining him of life and energy after the failure to mate. Donna's nerves were on edge as she hoped against hope that this wasn't killing him.

The same worry in her gut that had stuck with her since the start reminded her that there _was_ a way to cure the Doctor for certain, and she knew it.

But she shook off the feeling. As long as there was still the possibility that this could work, and the Doctor would survive, Donna would hold out on the final option. Emergency detox kissing and now, Donna embarrassingly thought, naked cuddling were as far as Donna could help the Doctor. Never mind the incident of the other night. Anyway, as it was, he was bloody lucky to have her.

"Quite right."

Donna jolted suddenly, delayed in reaction to the murmur by a fraction of a second. She hadn't imagined it, had she? And she hadn't been speaking to herself. It was definitely the Doctor. Arms still holding on to him, Donna popped upright and leaned over to look at the Doctor's face.

He was smiling. Donna shook him with the hand on his chest. "Doctor?"

He cracked an eye open, then grunted as he scrunched up his whole face. "Hm?"

Donna was beaming and could not contain herself as she started shaking the Doctor again. "You're alive!"

"'Course 'm alive," the Doctor murmured.

She looked down at her best friend, still not fully awake. He breathed and blinked slowly, gradually emerging from unconsciousness. Relief rolled through Donna in waves. He was fine. He would be fine.

Then he squinted up at Donna, smiling. The smile was soft and made his eyes crinkle. Reflexively, Donna brought a hand to gently cup the side of his face. The Doctor melted into her touch, nearly purring.

Donna marveled at the sight. He did really love to be touched. All this time, he might have just craved the warmth of another person. Or at the least, it definitely took the edge off of the rest of his needs.

In that moment a pleasant sensation of contentment spread through Donna like a cool drink of water on a hot day. She felt the sudden desire to nap, to have a relaxing doze right here, wrapped in the warm arms of her human mate.

Hang on, Donna realized with surprise. That wasn't her thought. Donna pulled her hand from the Doctor, just as he turned around in bed, reconfiguring their position so his tied-up hands could touch her. She could only watch in befuddlement as the Doctor nuzzled his face into her stomach, the rest of her out of reach from her half-sitting, half-laying position.

"Now hang on," Donna started, wondering what on earth she had gotten herself into.

She tried to put together some of the pieces. His temperature was way down, so his fever had obviously broke, but now he was overly tired after a night of sleeping. Donna frowned. That couldn't be right.

What the Doctor had first said when he woke up: Quite right. As if he had been responding to something. Was he dreaming? Or had he actually been speaking to Donna? Odd thing to say.

She was now torn between amusement and confusion. The Doctor seemed pretty content clutching her, but aside from the improving symptoms, he had clearly not regained his regular state of mind.

"Doctor," Donna tried rousing him, fighting her own exhaustion. Looking after him the last few days meant a lot less sleep for her. She wanted a nice long nap on the TARDIS but he had to get better before then.

 _Just a couple more minutes,_ Donna thought. But was that her thought? It didn’t sound like her. The words had been as clear as if someone had spoken them. The problem was, Donna had been watching the Doctor. He was asleep, and his mouth had not moved. But the words were closer to the Doctor’s voice than her own.

I must be really tired, Donna thought. Imagining things. When she was a kid, she used to say and do the wackiest things when asleep, sleepwalking, all that. It would probably be best to put her head down…It was very comfortable in the bed with her Doctor.

Donna shook herself. But no – she had to inform the nurses of the Doctor’s fever breaking. She’d gotten less sleep than this, she could make it.

She sluggishly, unwillingly pulled herself up from the bed. What was wrong with her?

… _Her_ Doctor?

Donna nudged the Doctor off of her, thankful for the precaution of the ropes. Leaving him where he was once again sleeping, she swung her legs over the bed, grabbed her dress from the floor, and flung it on over her head. When she stood up, a wave of dizziness almost pushed her back down. Her stomach lurched with nausea as she stepped further from the bed. She must need to eat something, she thought confusedly.

Finally close to the door, as Donna stepped out of the room she was too far off and distracted to hear the sudden cry that came from the bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading so far, I hope to have the next part up soon. There are at least two more chapters left of the story.


	5. Chapter 5

The Doctor was plunged into consciousness as if a bucket of icy water was thrown on him. He jolted at the sudden cold and cried out, but was only greeted by quiet.

He felt like he was swimming, and his awareness pushed to break through to the surface. Pins and needles prodded the backs of his eyes, disorienting him further. His time sense lagged, and he failed to pinpoint where he was. Was he on a ship in the Arctic? Or maybe he had been thrown out of an airlock on a desolate asteroid. That would explain the sick feeling and piercing cold.

He tried to pull together blurry thoughts and notions as his stiff body emerged from its irregular state. Painful little bits in his brain were tingling with awakening akin to limbs that had fallen asleep.

His first coherent thought dawned on him like the most important question he had been failing to remember: Where was his mate? He was awake, and he was alone. Confusion registered among the nagging discomforts pulling him towards awareness. Where was his mate?

As the Doctor became more lucid, he felt the rough rope around his wrists and ankles. He was on a bed, but the sheet was thin and was meager cover for his chilled body. The Doctor shivered, apprehension pooling into his gut. What was this place?

A fuzzy memory of his mate's warm skin and red hair mixed with the welcoming suns and vermilion grass of _home_ in his mind. Where was that missing warmth? It couldn’t have been long since it was here.

And now he was freezing in comparison to that memory, alone and lost and abandoned, with nothing but maybe -

The Doctor started at the realization, a small memory poking through his drowsy, clouded mind. It was his cycle. There had been someone there, so he must have been mated. Temporary relief was eaten away by new anxiety. Then where were they? His mate was gone, but was he -? Well, there was no way of telling himself.

What he did know, or at least what he could guess, greeted him ambivalently: something had triggered the heat's end, and that meant a successful mating bond.

It was incredibly difficult to remember anything, and the Doctor’s frustration mounted. The room's chill was pervading his senses, making focus unattainable. A muted physical sense could tell that breeding had occurred, but his worn-out and repairing body just wanted a healing rest, encouraging the Doctor to bother with the details some other time.

But the Doctor could not give in to that impulse, since that first question still echoed inside him, tormenting him. Whatever had happened, he couldn't understand why he was alone. And tied up. This fact sharpened the Doctor's focus as he tugged on his restraints.

He gave up on the futile task seconds later, too drained to escape his bonds. It was hopeless. Pangs of abandonment painfully knocked around inside of him. Too many unknowns were overwhelming his body’s tiredness and replacing it with fierce anxiety. His breathing grew harsher, harder to control.

 _Where_ was his mate? What had happened? Would he run out of air in this freezing room? Worries whirled through his panicked mind, impossible to reign in, and worst of all was an empty feeling in his gut that acted as a disturbing counterpoint to his distress.

The door thumped open, and two nurses ran in. The Doctor startled, and his breath involuntarily hitched in fear. He instinctively froze, but they kept coming towards him.

“See? Worst neurohormone boost yet,” one of them said.

She waved a loud beeping device at him and flashed a bright beam in his eyes. He tried to cringe away, but they held him down, preventing any movement that the ropes didn’t restrict.

“He was doing well before. I don’t know what happened,” said the other nervously.

A sharp pinch bit into the Doctor’s arm like a shard of glass. His pained gasp was met with a hand patting his shoulder.

“It’s biology, Nadine. It’s unpredictable. We can’t understand it all, especially in cases like this. Are you done with that? Help me get this on him.”

The two removed the ropes from the Doctor’s wrists and ankles and were putting him in a hospital gown. The Doctor tried to shout in protest or wriggle out of their hold, but something had changed, and his stomach lurched at the groundless new lack of sensation.

He couldn’t move. Not even his fingers twitched when he willed them to. His eyes could flicker from one cat face to the other, but he couldn’t get away from their rough, gloved hands and squeezing grip.

Icy cold panic joined the fear and confusion roiling inside of him, and he tried to scream, but it stuck in his throat.

_Not again not again not again not again not again –_

The nurses half dragged, half carried him from the brightly lit room. The ceiling turned from white to gray, and they were now in a smaller room. The Doctor, lost inside himself and rigid with fear, barely comprehended being laid down on a low table.

“Thank you for being quick with the patient. I’ll go get Lahn,” came a new voice calmly to his left. “You two stay here and secure him.”

“Should we give him something more, Magna? He doesn’t look good,” came Nadine’s timid voice.

“Of course he doesn’t. His fiancée has kept him restrained so long, no wonder he’s in pain,” Magna explained. “Poor thing. This is why we have to handle interspecies couples separately. I keep telling Kerse, but no, she doesn’t see it as an issue. And now because of her, we have a patient pushing fatal.”

“We had a part-Slitheen couple once, in training,” Nadine said.

“Yeah?”

“Let’s just say, the husband didn’t even know about the zipper.”

“Blimey.”

The dark-furred Magna came closer to the Doctor, fastening his wrists, waist, and ankles with the straps from the table. His legs were arranged farther apart than his arms, and the hospital gown was useless against the chill of the room.

The Doctor mutely stared up at her. Magna caught his eye and smiled, and with a free hand reached down to brush a stray tear from his cheek.

"Don't worry. We're getting you what you need," she said gently.

A door opened and closed smoothly, followed by hurried footsteps. A shout came from one of the cat women.

"What the hell is going on?" a voice suddenly roared. "Get away from him!"

"We're getting him proper treatment," Magna said firmly. "The one he came here for."

"Like hell you are!"

"Fiancée or not, you don't know what he needs. His neurohormones have spiked at the most dangerous levels yet, and he was extremely distressed when we got to him. You’ve helped enough. Now let us do our jobs and handle this."

"I don't think you understood me," the strained voice said slowly, but with an undertone of venom. "He doesn't need any of your 'treatment,' and we're leaving now."

A hand grabbed the Doctor's ankle and he internally flinched, his waking nightmares flashing through his mind.

The hand flew off with a gasp, then after a hesitation it returned, gentle yet firm where it grasped him. A trickle of warmth flooded into him. Some of his bodily tension automatically eased, and his eyes fluttered closed.

Hope tingled at the periphery of his senses. _She was here. His mate_. Her presence lessened the terror of being immobilized, but only by a fraction. He desperately wanted to leave.

"You need to leave-"

"Get your hands off him you bloody kittens!"

"You have no authority to decide -"

"He’s _mine_! Get off!"

"Kerse!" Nadine squeaked. A draft of cool air indicating the door’s opening.

The older, assertive voice from earlier spoke. “What’s going on?”

"Ma'am, please get her out of here," Magna said.

“Ms. Noble, you do not need to be here for this. I’m sorry, but it’s necessary. We will inform you when our patient has been properly treated and is ready for release. Lahn, remove Ms. Noble please; then we can proceed."

The Doctor's breath caught. He felt sick. He couldn’t even struggle against the restraints and try to escape.

A sudden smacking sound resonated throughout the small room, followed by thump of a nastier, heavier blow.

"Lahn!" The cat women rushed from the Doctor's tableside to the fallen man.

Meanwhile, the Doctor's bonds were hurriedly being undone by welcome fingertips. Hands grabbed his face.

"What did they do to you?" his mate whispered, her voice low, and the Doctor felt more than heard the worry rolling off of her. He whimpered. He desperately reached for her through their connection. The feelings from minutes before reared up, threatening to choke him.

"I…” her voice trembled. “Oh, Doctor.”

It was too much. Were they safe? His joy at being reunited with her floated above a turmoil of emotions. Once he finally felt her through the connection more fully, the relief of it almost overwhelmed him. But hadn’t she left him? Doubt crept into his gut, beside the cold weightlessness settled there.

“Let’s get out of here,” his fiery-haired angel murmured.

* * *

The Doctor’s head laid in her lap, and he was breathing heavily. Donna stroked his face and arms in what she hoped was a comforting gesture, and with much effort the Doctor seemed to gradually relax.

The damn paralyzing drug was wearing off, but not quickly enough. They had returned to the white room. Kerse, stony-faced, had guided them back there. Donna would get the Doctor’s things, have the nurses check him once more, and then they would get the hell out of there.

Since the first time they had gotten to the hospital, Donna was sure that the Doctor would be alright. Their connection, however it had occurred, was obvious to Donna now. She could feel every bit of confusion, shock, hurt, and tiredness the Doctor was putting out. It was all too much emotion to possibly be just her own, and it was open to her now more than before.

After she had left him sleeping peacefully in the room only a half hour prior, her nausea and the pain in her head had only grown. Food and water from a nurse’s breakroom hadn’t helped. On top of that, the usual nurses for the section were nowhere to be found.

It was only when Donna had been walking back towards the room was she hit with a bolt of fear and panic. Her feet pulled her along of their own desperate accord, and the pain in her own head was almost unbearable by the time she burst into a small room, feeling ready to pass out, and there were the nurses, with the Doctor paralyzed and panicked on a metal table.

When Donna had touched him, her pain went away. But his psychic pain had far overshadowed her physical strain in that long fraction of a moment when they had first touched. Even though the Doctor was now out of harm’s way, she worried about what she had seen and felt from him.

Now Donna anxiously tried to read how the Doctor was doing, but it was difficult, since he was wavering between consciousness and unconsciousness. 

During their wait, Donna tried to get the Doctor to talk to her, or at least open his eyes. Her soft encouragements didn’t get a reaction, however. Touching his face, Donna could at least sense that he was stable.

"Doctor?" Donna nudged him. "Open your eyes, please?"

The only response Donna got was a rush of jumbled emotions. A confused sense of aloneness tugged at her heart.

"I'm right here," she insisted. What more could she do? "C'mon, Doctor."

Donna wasn't sure if this telepathy thing went both ways, or if that was even what was happening here, but she tried to focus her thoughts. _Wake up, Doctor. You're safe_. She repeated the thoughts like a mantra, mentally trying to pry at his lonely preoccupation. "I'm not leaving you. I'm right here." _You're safe, you're safe, I've got you._

Warm feelings spread through Donna's chest. The Doctor shifted a bit, and opened his eyes a fraction, eyelashes wet with tears.

"That's it," Donna encouraged. She patted the side of his pale face.

The Doctor looked up at her uncertainly. "Donna?" he said hoarsely.

She wanted to cry in relief. "Waking up now, eh?" Donna teased softly, willing her voice not to shake. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes.

“Donna,” he repeated, awareness sparking inside his voice. His eyes glued to hers and he grasped her hand.

His recovery from the drug, but also being able to speak, loosened a knot of tension and worry that had grown in Donna’ chest. Even if he rambled a lot and frankly could get on Donna’s nerves when he was manically avoiding something, she would give anything to have him back to normal, whether he was telling her an involved story to distract her from the toast he had just burnt or ranting about every awful pear he had ever unwillingly or accidentally eaten. They would be back to how things were in no time, Donna assured herself. Soon they would be on their way and out of this place.

The minutes went by, and the Doctor was becoming more aware, though he was still lethargic and a bit confused. Some of this confusion transferred to Donna, and now that she had guessed it was a telepathic thing, she could tell more and more distinctly which feelings were hers and which were his. She tried to push soothing feelings back on to him, if it worked that way.

The Doctor shivered, and she rubbed his arms to warm him up.

"Hang on," Donna said. "I know it's a bit cold in here, but we'll get back on the TARDIS and you can set the temperature however you want. We'll get you a nice cozy spot in the library, yeah? Right by the fireplace."

Finally someone came in. Only the timid blonde nurse returned, Nadine she was called, and even though she didn’t seem capable of carting away the Doctor herself, Donna was still extremely on guard. She wouldn’t be leaving the Doctor’s side from now on, especially in this place.

They sat the Doctor up from his spot in Donna’s lap, and as his body woke up he became warmer. Donna could even detect that he was thirsty, and at her request Nadine brought water. The Doctor took the proffered water and drank slowly but steadily from a straw. Donna watched him nervously and absently rubbed his back, looking forward to getting him into something warmer than the thin hospital gown hanging on his thin frame.

Nadine checked his vitals, and with her she carried a device of the most recent remote readings. The readings confirmed that yes, his mating process had seemed to run its course. His levels were returning to normal and his bodily functions waking up. As soon as the Doctor could move normally, Nadine said, the head nurse Kerse had given the couple permission to leave immediately.

“She would never say it,” Nadine said. “But based on these readings, I’m thinking maybe you were right. An hour ago, he was recovering perfectly. We came to check on him at a sudden dangerous hormone surge, and though the timing was anomalous, we assumed it was one like all the others. But then you came in,” she continued, frowning, “and he didn’t need further treatment.”

“You never tried to understand him,” Donna said bitterly. “He’s more than just an animal you can check for readings and drug.”

“We didn’t know the process was already ending. You told Kerse that you don’t know much about his species either,” Nadine said, her tone becoming challenging. “If you had stayed with him when he spiked, and you thought he was going to die, wouldn’t you have let us try to treat him?”

Donna hesitated. “It’s not the same,” she said, feeling the words. “It would have been different if I was there.”

Donna remembered the building pain that had occurred when she had left the Doctor, the nausea and headache only starting when she had left his side. There was no telling why that had happened. If she had stayed, would he have remained stable? Was touch that important to the Doctor right now, with whatever tenuous connection it was that existed between them?

She wasn’t going to let go of the Doctor to find out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up next in the last part of the story: return to the TARDIS and the Doctor regains his senses.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for taking a longer time to update! It's been a busy month and the final part was getting really long as I wrote it. There were just so many things I wanted to include, so I decided to break it up into multiple chapters. Enjoy!

They left the hospital soon after, Donna with the Doctor and a bill to be paid by the next month in hand. _As if that will ever happen,_ Donna had thought when Nadine handed her the envelope. The Doctor would probably run to the end of the universe before paying a bill. And no way would they be paying this lot.

They walked past the nude statues and rectangular pools down the white steps of the building's entrance, finally to the dusty gray gravel of the planet's surface. The Doctor was still very out of it. As they left the hospital, he seemed to prefer being guided by Donna, who led him by a tightly held hand. He was very quiet, seeming almost dazed. The Doctor had been stuffed back into his suit, and if one ignored his tired face and the way he wavered on his feet, he would look almost normal. Bags rested under his half-closed eyes. Even though he was upright and could walk, Donna still felt like she had to drag him by the time they reached the TARDIS.

He let out a long sigh when they entered the TARDIS, and he stopped and closed his eyes, seeming to savor what was probably the ship's presence. Donna faintly sensed the ship too, as if she were welcoming them back. _I got him,_ Donna thought. _It was better than waiting here, but I just wish I had left sooner._

The Doctor sighed again and walked deeper into the ship. This time Donna let him lead the way. He touched the console with his other hand, relief and care evident on his face. She watched him with a soft expression. The Doctor in the TARDIS, safe and sound - or as safe as he could get, being him. They stood there for a few moments, the Doctor distractedly stroking bits of the TARDIS.

"Doctor? Are you tired?" It was almost unnecessary to ask, since she felt he was tired through their connection. "I could take you to your room?" she offered questioningly.

He looked at Donna, his expression open and uncertain. Then the Doctor nodded. After a moment he made no movement to go, so Donna led him off down the hallway to find his room. Donna wondered if the Doctor had some kind of mind fog from fatigue, even if he could walk now and was more aware than before. But of course, he would need more rest before he was fully recovered. He wouldn't be back to his full self until he had recuperated a little.

"Some sleep and a warm cuppa is all you'll need," Donna said brightly. She glanced at the Doctor. He was starting to list, leaning more on Donna, his eyes fluttering closed.

"Oi, watch it," Donna said, stopping to prop him up straight again. She tried to quash down her worry at this. He was just tired.

"Donna, you're more tired than me," the Doctor murmured.

In her position of lifting him up, Donna gaped at him and his almost childish look of disgruntlement. "What?"

He squinted at her and starting walking again, pulling Donna along with him. "Not your fault," he huffed. "I'm tired too, but you're exhausted. It's not helping either of us. Sorry."

Donna opened her mouth to reply but then smiled and patted his shoulder, less so taking in his words than just feeling relieved that he was talking. They reached his dimly-lit room and Donna plopped him down on the blue-gray sheets of the bed. The Doctor sank on to the bed with a small groan. Donna stood over him, fidgeting. Some privacy was surely what he wanted now.

"Okay well, I'll just be in my room if you need me," Donna said, already turning to leave. She felt sick to her stomach to leave him, but he probably needed space.

"Donna - " the Doctor called after her.

Literally, she was sick to her stomach. Donna's hand reached to her temple where a headache was starting to form. "What - "

She moaned, and her hand reached out to grasp at the doorway.

"Donna," the Doctor said, his voice pleading. "Please come back."

Donna turned around and blindly walked back to the Doctor. She sat next to him on the bed, grasping his hand, and the most miraculous thing happened: her pain already started to fade away as quickly as it had appeared.

"Not the best idea," the Doctor said, voice strained. "Physical contact is the best thing right now."

"What do you mean? Why?" Donna asked fearfully. She realized now that it was the same pain she had felt when she had left the Doctor to look for the nurses. That, too, miraculously went away soon after. What was wrong with her?

The Doctor was silent for a moment. He directed his words at their joined hands on the bed. "You should get some rest. We both could use some."

"No more sleeping, Doctor," Donna said forcefully, fighting her own tiredness. "What happened just then?"

She could feel the uneasiness starting to emanate off of the Doctor, and that only added to Donna's own worry. "And how am I able to feel what you're feeling?"

"Oh, Donna," the Doctor said, and when he finally looked up at her his eyes were sorrowful. "I'm so sorry."

"What are you sorry for?" she asked.

"I didn't mean to get you tied up in all this," he said regretfully. "I should have resisted it more."

"I don't know what you mean," she said. She paused, but he didn't say anything, so she continued. "Doctor, I was the one who left the TARDIS and followed you into that hospital. And whatever it was, you certainly didn't know it would happen." She remembered his panicked desperation when he had flown the TARDIS to the ICC. "You weren't even conscious most of the time! You can't honestly blame yourself for what happened. The head nurse explained it to me."

"She did, did she?" the Doctor said. His eyes squeezed shut.

Donna caught his strange tone and hesitated, but soldiered on anyway. "Lots of species have these...mating cycles. They're completely natural, and based on that, I don't think it's anything to be ashamed of."

The Doctor scoffed and shook his head, turning his face away.

"What?" Donna asked.

"'Natural' doesn't mean good," the Doctor bit out. "Snake venom is natural. Vestigial organs like the appendix that can do you more harm than good are natural."

"We don't let all our 'natural' traits run free, Donna," he continued. "Think of if humans let all their bad, selfish, 'natural' desires take free reign. It would be chaos."

"But you obviously couldn't control it," Donna said. She thought about the different types of birth control she had taken over the years. "Unless there's some medication you need to take for it?"

The Doctor shook his head and sighed frustratedly. "No. I didn't know it was coming." He paused, and with his other hand nervously picked at the bedsheet. "But it's not just that. I couldn't control it. Losing control like that for the sake of this 'natural' process..." A well of disgust that Donna couldn't understand seeped through their connection. "My people got rid of all of that. Or at least circumvented it. It shouldn't have happened."

"So you didn't know...?" Donna said. The Doctor shook his head. "Blimey. I guess it was a bit unexpected."

"Yeah. A sort of biological fluke caused it, I imagine." The Doctor's tone was almost sad, and he absentmindedly rubbed at his stomach with the hand that wasn't holding Donna's.

Noticing his tired look, Donna nudged him further on to the bed and started to lie down. The Doctor followed suit, seeming of the same mind as Donna.

"I just wish you had given me a heads up. Anyway, at least it's over now," Donna said once they had gotten comfortable, laying side by side. She started to comb her fingers through the Doctor's hair.

The Doctor hummed, lost in her touch, and in the transfixing moment Donna almost didn't hear the Doctor's soft, "Well, not exactly."

"What?" It came out louder than Donna had intended, and she ceased her hand's motion.

"Oh please don't stop," he sighed. "I like that."

"Doctor, what do you mean it's not done with?"

The Doctor cringed. "Us separating is an awful idea...for the next several hours. It would be...painful."

Donna's brow furrowed, and she turned on her side to face the Doctor laying beside her. He probably felt her confusion before she even said anything. "But why?"

The Doctor was silent and tried to avert his eyes from her gaze. Between them emerged a new anxiety from the Doctor.

"Now you have to explain," Donna demanded. "And the way I can feel everything you feel, how does that tie into this?"

The Doctor started off hesitantly. "Well...you know I'm a touch telepath."

"A what?" Donna frowned.

"Touch telepath. I can communicate with some other strong telepathic sources without touch, of course, and especially when there's a connection, as I have with the TARDIS. But for any other beings, I can use telepathy through touch," the Doctor explained. "Remember when I opened your mind to the Ood song?"

"Yeah," Donna replied. "And then you took it away again, even though you could still hear it. But you weren't touching the Ood."

"They were a strong telepathic species. It wasn't difficult to hear them, since they were broadcasting so loud."

"Okay. And...?"

"And that was touch telepathy, Donna. I could make contact with you when you opened your mind, and if my mind was open, you could have done the same thing."

"I could have seen into your mind?" Donna asked. "Even though I'm not a telepath?"

"More or less, with practice. Thing is, telepathy is a consensual communication. I couldn't have touched your mind just as I wouldn't have been able to force you to speak if you didn't want to. And any telepathic being will know how to build walls for themself."

"So, with this touch telepathy," Donna tried, "You're able to share emotions with me. And you can also feel mine?"

"Yes."

"Okay..." Donna said. "Seems a bit intimate for me. Do you want to turn it off?" The confusion was evident in her tone, even if the Doctor hadn't felt it.

The Doctor let out a whoosh of air and seemed to brace himself. "I can't."

"You can't?" Donna repeated, puzzled.

"This...this process - it created this - It took away my ability to maintain that wall," he explained. His hands twitched in hers, and she felt his fear and vulnerability.

Donna looked down at their clasped hands. She had nearly forgotten. When she attempted to loosen her hold, the Doctor held tighter.

"Well you can let go, right?" Donna said, raising her eyebrow. "If you can't control your telepathy, the last thing we should be doing is holding hands."

The Doctor hummed in consideration. "I wouldn't try it. Again, that is."

Donna was quiet it for a moment. "That nausea and pain in the hospital and just now, when I tried to leave you here. Was I sensing how you felt, when I left?"

"No, that was you too," the Doctor said. For some reason Donna couldn't discern, he looked guilty.

"But...At least for you, I can understand. In the hospital, I could get you to calm down with skin-on-skin contact and - and the warmth of another person, since that was part of what you needed at the time and it helped you. But why did - why does it hurt for me to leave your side? To stop touching you?"

"Because..." the Doctor started. "Because there's this connection that formed between us, from touching, and so now to stop contact would be uncomfortable. For a while."

Donna was worried. "How long?"

"Well, until this small, accidental connection fades away," the Doctor said carefully.

"Oh," Donna sighed, relieved. She wasn’t eager to experience that uncomfortable nausea and aching again.

"It might take a few days, but don't worry, it will wear off," the Doctor said. He was avoiding her eyes again.

A lump formed in Donna's throat, but she didn't know why. She tried to shake off the feeling, especially since it didn't make any sense.

The Doctor moved closer to her, entwining their legs together, and the two laid close together sharing body heat.

"I didn't think you'd want to do this, after everything that happened," Donna said, referring to their close position. _Though I'm not complaining._ She was enjoying this closeness with the Doctor, despite the unfortunate circumstances that got them there.

The Doctor shrugged a shoulder. "I can't help it."

"Because of the connection?" Donna guessed.

"Something like that," the Doctor said. "I'm not quite...back to my regular self yet."

Donna knew that was true, considering his body language. Usually constantly on the move, and only occasionally touchy, the Doctor was now stuck to her like glue, and stubbornly staying put. Even if his stillness was odd, though, the stubbornness wasn't so unusual.

"I'm sorry," the Doctor repeated.

"Don't be," Donna murmured. "You said it would wear off, Spaceman."

"I know," the Doctor said. "But you had to take care of me, and I'm sorry you got caught in that."

"I'm just glad I didn't leave your sorry arse behind," Donna said. "They weren't treating you properly in there."

A wave of embarrassment emerged from the Doctor, nearly masking Donna's own. She remembered when she had first seen him in that white room. Ire and protectiveness flared up within her. He had been helpless on that table, and then again in that small room when they had taken him away from her. She had had to fight through the nausea to find him again. She should have never left him.

"I don't know why you went to that place," Donna said indignantly, her words packed with the memory of the last few days.

"I didn't have a choice," the Doctor replied quietly.

"You didn't have any other back-up plans? No emergency medication?"

"It's like I said. The process...it's not natural, really," the Doctor began uncomfortably. "And definitely not common.”

The Doctor cleared his throat, and the forced quality of his next words gave the impression that he was dragging them up from a deep place that he ordinarily didn’t touch. Donna waited and reassuringly squeezed his hands in her own.

“My people, they...dappled with genetic alterations, or enhancements. Reproduction was replaced with the innovation of these things called looms. They were better, cleaner, more efficient for a species that lives long and doesn't need a replacement generation too quickly. Natural means of procreation became less popular, and the idea of a mating process as a legitimate method would have been laughed at.”

"Then how was it possible, then, if you're species can't...?" Donna asked.

"It's still possible,” the Doctor said. "And the social structure on Gallifrey was complex." He paused, trying to find the words. "In a nutshell, not everyone was necessarily Time Lord, but most Time Lords didn’t have mating processes." Shame crept into the Doctor's voice. "And an involuntary mating cycle? That's unheard of."

"We went to a garden," Donna suddenly remembered. "Not long before this all happened. Did something there trigger it? Some alien plant hormones or something?"

The Doctor considered for a moment and then shrugged. "It's a possibility, but probably not the main cause. There might have been something to encourage it."

There was something the Doctor was holding back. "So what do you think it was that caused it?" Donna asked.

The Doctor gave a deep sigh, his expression gloomy. "Biological crisis triggered it, I suppose. Perhaps it was something to be expected in the last member of his species." A hint of well-buried misery loomed beneath his words.

 _So this could happen again?_ Donna thought. Instead she asked, "And the hospital? How were they supposed to help?"

"It's possible to go through the process without taking - without doing it properly," the Doctor explained, sweating slightly. Donna worried about how much energy he was exerting to speak. "The point was to trick my body, to tire it out enough to get it to think it had gotten what it wanted. Apparently the nurses missed a crucial element."

Donna nodded, vividly aware of the discovery she had made in caring for the Doctor. "You were having a rough time of it the less skin-on-skin contact you had. In the couple of days you were there by yourself, the nurses were worried that you weren't improving. But no one actually touched you - it was all gloves and cold rooms."

"Probably for the best," the Doctor muttered.

"What's that?" Donna asked.

"The touch telepathy," the Doctor elaborated. "I couldn't control it."

"You seemed to be doing fine with it," Donna said, and frowned. "I actually didn't notice any telepathy or feeling your emotions until you started to get better. That's odd, isn't it?"

The Doctor shrugged nonchalantly. "You probably didn't establish contact long enough before that."

"It was sudden," Donna remembered. "I think I even got thoughts from you, phrases." _And images, that once in the small gray room._ "And even apart from you I could still sense you enough to find you, right down to the room they put you in."

The Doctor suddenly sat up. "I'm a bit hungry, actually," he said. “You must be too, I imagine.”

With that, Donna remembered the emptiness in her own stomach. "Yeah," Donna admitted. She had eaten hardly anything the last few days even with the occasional refreshments provided by the nurses. Ignoring her appetite was finally catching up to her.

She let him guide her out of the room in the search for food, but Donna had noticed the Doctor’s convenient interruption. He was avoiding something, and even if she did not know what, he couldn’t keep it hidden forever. Neither of them could ignore the feelings communicated through their necessarily linked hands. For the moment, they were stuck like this. And the Doctor couldn’t run away from it even if he wanted to.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoy the final part of the story.

Hand-in-hand, the two left the bedroom and the Doctor led them in a short distance to a kitchenette adjacent to the larger kitchen area. It was more of a cozy nook for tea than a place to cook, and Donna was surprised she had never noticed it before. There was a small stove, pantry, and various humming boxes that Donna assumed were types of refrigerators. All these appliances surrounded a low countertop and sofa wedged together atop white tile floor.

"What is this, your secret cupboard for midnight snacking?" Donna asked, amused.

The Doctor huffed and hovered next to Donna by necessity as she looked for cups. Once Donna had put the kettle on, the Doctor reached to the shelves for snacks to put on the countertop, including an orange and a large bag of crisps. He popped open the bag and immediately started eating.

"The next time we're out of these," the Doctor said around a stuffed mouth, waving a crisp in Donna's face, "We'll stop at Goja Libep for the real experts of potato-based foods. It's a quaint system, and the people are nearly potatoes themselves, in shape not composition, though I guess that's why they say you are what you eat - they had the Libeppos in mind when they coined that phrase, I imagine -Anyway, they have a tour on the planet that does the processing, but I suppose we could skip it and just go straight to the shop at the end. I love a little shop."

Donna smiled at the characteristic Doctor-y rant, pouring the tea one-handed. That task done, the two of them moved to sit down together, the Doctor licking the salt off of his free hand. Donna took a bite of the peanut butter sandwich she had thrown together. The sofa was small, so human and Time Lord were wedged together, but if it had been larger the two would not have moved apart anyway. They chatted a bit as they enjoyed their snacks, mostly sitting in the quiet with the humming equipment around them.

The Doctor sipped his tea and gave a showy sigh of contentment. Despite the signs that the Doctor was returning slightly to normal, and she was happy about that, Donna also felt a sense of urgency. The Doctor's normal meant burying unpleasant thoughts and avoiding problems by running to the next adventure. Donna didn't want to wait too long for the Doctor to close himself off like he usually did. So even though she didn't want to push him, she didn't want to miss her chance to talk about the other things that were bothering her.

"Doctor, there's something else I wanted to talk about," Donna said after a couple minutes.

"Mm?" the Doctor said around another gulp of hot tea, a slightly guarded look in his eyes under the cheerful veneer.

"In that room, when I found you," she started, and in her careful observation of the Doctor she saw him minutely tense up beneath the carefree facade. "There was a moment when I touched you, and I not only felt or heard your feelings or thoughts, but I saw - some of them," Donna faltered on the last words.

Of all the things that had happened at the hospital, she had been dwelling on those images the most.

The Doctor was looking down into his teacup and said nothing.

When Donna continued, her voice was several degrees softer. "There was - I saw Jenny. And several others."

Upon touching the Doctor's ankle in that gray room, a burst of painful feelings had instantly barraged Donna as faces flashed across her mind. Among them was a blonde girl in blue falling, a man dying in his arms from a gunshot wound, a crying Professor Song, and Jenny. Jenny's smile, and then her sudden scared looked as she stepped forward and was shot, and then died in his arms.

Then icy blue eyes that stabbed and stung like daggers had suddenly appeared, and the shock of paralyzing fear had made Donna let go of the Doctor.

"I'm sorry," Donna continued. "I shouldn't have left you alone." _There, or on Midnight._

"I have thought of Jenny a lot recently," the Doctor said quietly. "It was a very Time Lord way to have a child. But it wasn't meant to be. I wonder if that's why -"

The Doctor glanced uneasily at Donna, but then shook his head and huffed angrily. "It doesn't matter. Maybe my body thought it was trying to help make up the loss by triggering the mating cycle, but of course it couldn't know how useless it all was." The Doctor's tone had turned bitter.

He glanced at Donna and noticed her bemused look. "Time Lords are telepathic," the Doctor said, voice low and heavy. "A telepathic race can connect without the need of touch. All Time Lords connected, a constant presence in the back of one's mind." A dark churning emotion, almost nostalgic, could be felt through the connection. Donna tried her hardest to ignore it, sensing that was one abyss she couldn't safely look into.

"When I lost Jenny, I physically felt it," the Doctor said. "She was Time Lord enough to establish a mild telepathic connection with me as soon as she had stepped out of that chamber. She wouldn't have known she was doing it, of course, and I hardly noticed at the time. It's only when the presence suddenly disappears that you notice its absence." The Doctor's eyes became distant.

He glanced at Donna and looked away quickly, inhaling sharply. He picked at the peel of his half-eaten orange. "The telepathic absence might have triggered an imbalance so sudden that my neurohormones kicked into gear. A mating process for the last Time Lord in existence." The Doctor flashed Donna a tight, ironic smile that was more of a grimace. "I don't usually consider the universe itself as more than indifferent in its influence, but in this case it seems that it was being particularly cruel."

"Doctor?" Donna prompted, squeezing his hand tighter.

"I went to the hospital because there was no other choice possible. Another Time Lord could have -" The Doctor's voice suddenly caught. "Could've calmed me down, telepathically. They could have been an anchor and stopped the process a lot sooner. It's possible to interrupt the process, to stop it, when there's a strong telepath to help."

The Doctor suddenly looked at Donna. "But you did help Donna, incredibly. It just took longer for me because you couldn't actively reach me through telepathy."

"So this would have been over if we had found you a telepath?" Donna considered. "We could think of that for the next time this happens."

"No, that's - only another Time Lord could have done it. The only other options are pair bonding or pregnancy, but back when these cases occasionally occurred, it was, ah, easiest to have another Time Lord telepathically disrupt the process." Donna gleaned from the Doctor's hushed tone and avoidant eyes that this option was a secretive, shameful thing. An aborted mating process might have been as seriously frowned upon as a back-alley abortion.

In the moment of silence, Donna digested the rest of his words. "But those are horrible odds. Without another Time Lord in that hospital, you could have died!"

"I was going to tire my body out, remember?" The Doctor said wearily. "The plan was to fool the process. I had never tried it before, so there was a chance it wouldn't work. As I filled out the papers when I arrived, I worried that the process wouldn't stop until I was actually pregnant."

Donna chuckled, but the Doctor looked more tired than joking.

"Oh, but you're kidding -?"

The Doctor gave her a world-weary look between "for your own sake you shouldn't have asked," and "I wish I were kidding."

"Crisps?" The Doctor said, offering her the bag.

Donna was gaping. "How?"

The Doctor shrugged. "Sort of like vestigial organs, but only dormant. In cases like these I could have been pushed to use some of them."

Donna nodded and started shoving more food in her mouth, burying any indication at just how much this information surprised her. She unwillingly and intimately remembered just how male certain parts of the Doctor had evidently been to Donna only two night before.

Sensing Donna's sudden embarrassment, the Doctor cleared his throat awkwardly and sipped more of his tea.

As if encouraged by her sudden reticence, Donna's mind was already speeding to recollect in perfect detail the events of that night, and she desperately wished that she was better at repressing things. Instead, she was remembering the Doctor's desperate cries and her own heated frenzy that led to their simultaneous climax. Donna internally groaned. _Way to go, you idiotic hormonal human. What ever happened to "I'm having none of that nonsense"? The Doctor had just wanted a mate, and now..._

Donna's self-chastisement over the mortifying recollection halted for a second as she caught a stray thought. The Doctor hadn't mated properly, having no telepathic stopgap to help, so the "only other options," as the Doctor had said, were to get pregnant or get a mate. Or apparently to wear himself out, but Donna had a niggling doubt that he hadn't done that at all. Without Donna's skin-on-skin contact, the Doctor might not have survived by himself at the hospital. The Doctor's plan to wear himself out would not have worked.

Pieces of what the Doctor had told her started to fit with her memories of the last few days. She remembered the heat and closeness of that night, and how far more aware of the Doctor Donna had been after that. The Doctor was content and recovering most of yesterday, and Donna stayed with him. After that, without speaking, she had heard his voice and felt his feelings. Being away from him physically hurt the entire last day.

This "small connection" between them had somehow saved the Doctor, but he had avoided explaining how. Almost as if he were afraid to. Donna wasn't a telepath, and she certainly hadn't gotten the Doctor pregnant. But still the Doctor had recovered. What else could have saved the Doctor but a "pair bond"?

But Donna was afraid to ask. It couldn't be possible, anyway - she was human. They weren't the same species, they weren't compatible; though they had been more than compatible that other night... Donna shook away the thought. No, it couldn't be. It was a small connection the Doctor had somehow created with his own telepathy, and whatever it was wouldn't last, just like he had said.

The Doctor's fidgeting broke her out of her contemplation. He seemed to already be withdrawing from her and into himself, nonverbally expressing that he was done with questions for the night. His bagged eyes looked down at his empty teacup, clenching it before lowering it onto the counter.

"I think...I'm done," the Doctor said, avoiding her eyes.

"Right," Donna said, taking it in stride. "We both could use some sleep."

They left the kitchenette and back to the room and into bed. Donna self-consciously laid down next to the Doctor, unsure of what to do next. His withdrawn attitude said he wanted to be alone, but she couldn't leave him. For the next several hours, he had said, it would hurt them both.

She pulled the bedsheet over herself and wondered how much he was starting to remember from the last couple days. Her face flushed. Maybe he was just embarrassed, just as she was. Donna realized how awkward it would be if she had been sexed up and begged her best friend to "help" her through it. He must be mortified, and here Donna was worrying about silly little telepathic connections that didn't matter anyway.

Donna turned on her side, facing the Doctor. Her hand still held his. He was on his back, his face up towards the ceiling, his other hand on his chest. His eyes had already fluttered close, but he was fully dressed - suit coat and shoes even. Donna wanted to say something about it, but he looked too tired to do anything else.

"Goodnight," she murmured instead, letting herself drift off. She heard the Doctor hum lightly in reply.

* * *

 The Doctor laid flat on his bed in the dark. He clutched the warm hand in his, aware that Donna had rapidly fallen asleep and even minutes later he couldn't follow suit. He just wanted his mind to shut off and let his body get some rest, but it was impossible. He couldn't bring himself to remove any of his clothing, but now he felt constricted and slightly too warm to be comfortable.

 _He needed her. His mate._ The Doctor wished he could wake her up, ask her to hold him tightly in that warm embrace of hers, but he couldn't think of it. Already she had done enough for him, and he needed to regain his self-control. No more thoughtless, selfish actions that pulled Donna into it. But it was too early after the mating cycle, too soon since the bond was created; he was incredibly uncomfortable and ached for the reassuring touch of his mate. He forced the desire back. Her hand would have to be enough.

It was only natural for a newly mated pair to want to consolidate their bond, just as Donna had unintentionally and wonderfully done when she had held the Doctor so closely the day after their bonding night. This made the connection even stronger. Unfortunately, this also made the Doctor need to strain his resolve even harder as he laid rigidly in the bed and grit his teeth.

It was too soon after the bonding, the Doctor knew, but he had to try to wean himself away from their connection. Numb himself to it. He couldn't have been so careless to mate with his pointedly _platonic_ best friend, but it happened. And now he needed to distance himself as much as he could from their connection before Donna found out. Before the bond grew even stronger.

The effort would not be completely futile, the Doctor thought determinedly. Mating bonds were permanent for a Time Lord until regeneration, but Donna was human. Her connection to him was far weaker. She would stop feeling the bond much sooner. Even if the Doctor's connection remained, he could weaken it enough that she wouldn't notice. It would take a lot of effort and would even be painful, but it was highly likely that the process would be one-sided. Donna's connection would fade quickly. As for the Doctor's...well, it was his fault this entire thing had happened in the first place. If it hurt a little bit, then that was just what he deserved.

That was what the Doctor was thinking as he laid in the dark. Tears leaked out of his eyes, but he dared not make a sound to Donna or squeeze her hand. Block by mental block, he struggled to rebuild his telepathic wall, determined not to wake Donna with his distress. He didn’t need to cause her any more suffering.

An accidental, permanent bond. It was better to do this now, to separate himself early. As soon as Donna's side of the connection weakened, he would let go of her hand too. It needed to be done.

* * *

 Donna woke up alone. This wasn't so unusual, since she usually did wake up alone in the TARDIS. However, the events of the last few days immediately came back to her, and the absence of the Doctor sent a surge of panic through her. She sprang out of bed in the dimly lit room, trying to get her bearings.

Feeling well-rested and only slightly groggy, a part of Donna's body was happy with the rest, even if that ease was now overridden by mental preoccupations. She walked out of what she remembered as the Doctor's room and peered down the hallway cautiously. The lighting was diminished like the rest of the TARDIS, though the console room glowed in the distance. It was never easy to tell if it was day or night on the ship, but usually lighting was a good indicator. Donna frowned and treaded down the hallway.

When she reached the console room, she spotted the Doctor immediately. He was leaning forward with his back to the jump seat, his head bowed slightly. His face was scrunched painfully, and his knuckles were white from the tight grip his hands had on the edge of the console. His shoulders were stiff beneath his blue suit jacket.

Donna stepped forward, and she must have made a sound, because in one smooth motion the Doctor straightened up, fluidly adjusting controls as if that was what he had been doing the whole time. His face was a pensive mask. Donna doubted what she had seen for a moment, but her knowledge of the last few days was too fresh in her mind.

"Doctor, are you alright?" she asked and started to walk forward.

"Of course," the Doctor lilted brightly, tossing her a glance. He stepped out of her view around the console.

Donna steeled herself and followed him. He was staring down at the controls, hardly doing anything convincingly operational. "You didn't look alright just there."

"It's fine," he said. "I'm fine." Before Donna could say anything else, the Doctor launched into a more upbeat manner. "Now, I'm glad you're awake. What'll it be, Goja Lipeb? Or perhaps something less touristy, more dangerous. I usually avoid safaris, for instance, but I've heard of some rather intriguing ones in a system not too far from Earth."

"Doctor -"

"Nah, you don't want a safari, safaris are hot and being stealth-hunted by the local wildlife isn't comforting no matter how many safeguards are in place, so how 'bout a friendlier atmosphere? More people? Largest shopping complex in the galaxy sound enticing?" The Doctor whirled, grasped a lever, and stopped to look at Donna expectantly.

Donna gathered her thoughts. "Doctor, I don't want to go shopping."

The Doctor wavered in his upbeat demeanor as he caught the more serious undertone in her refusal. He paused before continuing casually.

"Right - you haven't been home in a while, probably want to stop in and say hello to your mum and grandad. We'll make a quick stop, but only a quick one, because we're just a little behind on all the places I want to show you."

"I don't need to go home," Donna frowned. "Doctor, we don't need to go anywhere right now."

She could see the Doctor internally slump at this. He was fidgeting, and she knew how much he hated standing still, even if they weren’t so much standing but floating around inside the Time Vortex with absolutely no rush to go anywhere.

"Okay, breakfast," the Doctor said, wagging his finger at her. "But then we hit the Vortex."

Donna smiled and grabbed his hand, and the Doctor nearly jumped a foot in the air. He stumbled back from her, and Donna watched in concerned confusion.

"Doctor? What's wrong?"

He kneaded his hand and breathed harshly, his eyes squeezing shut.

"Are you hurt?" she asked, stepping towards him. He flinched away.

"No," the Doctor rasped. "I'll be fine, just - don't touch me."

Donna stood by the Doctor at a safe distance as he grasped a pillar with one hand and tried to control his wild breathing.

Donna's eyes widened in realization. "Is it the connection?”

"It's nothing," he ground out.

"Don't give me that, Spaceman, we both know it's not true," Donna said. She softened. "What can I do?"

"There's nothing," the Doctor said, and under his quieting breaths she heard his defeated tone. "There's nothing you can do."

"What does that mean?" Donna watched the Doctor stand still, staring at the ground and his shoulders hunched defensively. “Is it something I did? If something I’m doing is causing you pain, just tell me how I can fix it. I want to help.”

The Doctor just looked tired. He eyed her wearily from his spot against the pillar before, after a hesitation from some internal deliberation, walking towards Donna. He looked her in the eyes gravely, but she could sense a hint of desperation in those wide brown eyes too.

He stood in front of her, and in one motion he touched both of his hands' fingertips to Donna's temples and lightly pressed his forehead against her own.

What suddenly came into Donna's head was a flood of carefully selected memories and knowledge. Images paired with words and phrases in her mind. There was Donna, holding the Doctor in a tight embrace in the hospital, and moments when she had touched the Doctor and sensed feelings and thoughts from him. There was the Doctor waking up alone and immediately sensing her presence. And the terrible pain in her stomach and the way she had been able to intuitively find him.

_Mating bond. Pair bond. The most intimate connection a telepathic species could share._

Additional details filtered through, but Donna was stuck on what she had just learned. _A full mating bond._

Both of them opened their eyes. The Doctor let go of Donna and backed away several steps.

"So not just a 'small unimportant connection' then," Donna said, closing her eyes in attempt to reign in the shock.

"The bond is permanent between two Time Lords," the Doctor confirmed. "But it can probably be severed when it's between two different species. You have already been recovering really well, Donna."

Donna thought about her lack of nausea after she had woken up, even without contact from the Doctor.

"But what about you?" If she hadn't seen the pain he was trying to hide when she had found him, she would have felt the pain through their connection when touching.

The Doctor's face scrunched and he looked at the floor. "Breaking a connection like this isn't easy, but I can manage. At least it's only me that needs to go through it. You don't deserve that."

"And you do?" Donna tentatively steeped forward. "You don't have to do this. Please don't suffer for something that wasn't your fault."

The Doctor's head snapped up and he shook his head. "You don't know what you're saying - it is my fault, and I'll do what needs to be done."

Donna nearly flinched away from the venom in his voice. "Why does it need to be done?" she asked quietly, her voice small.

The Doctor turned his face away, biting his lip, offsetting the new pain painted across his face. "You don't mean that. This isn't...I showed you what this means."

Donna felt herself tear up. "Doctor..."

"You wouldn't want me," the Doctor choked out.

"Of course I do," Donna pleaded, and she flew over the short distance between them to pull him into her arms. "And I can't stand you hurting like this, either, Doctor."

She touched his face and hugged him tightly. He didn't resist her embrace, and soon he was holding her back.

She kissed him tenderly on the lips. It was the only kiss they had ever had, apart from the panicked and anchovies-flavored one from what felt like lifetimes ago. Donna kissed the Doctor, remembering every treasured smile or touch or laugh they had ever shared, rushed breakfasts in the kitchen and languid evenings in the library. She could live with more of the same. Never mind having all of space and time at the touch of your fingertips to explore with the person you love most.

The Doctor sighed into the kiss, and Donna felt his delighted surprise through their newly reestablished connection. _You really-?_

"Of course, you dolt," Donna interrupted, pulling from their kiss. "I love you."

The Doctor's smile slowly grew, and he picked her up in his arms and twirled them around. _My mate,_ they thought. Perhaps both of them thought it, or only one of them, but what mattered was the shared feeling it created.

 _My mate_ , the Doctor later thought in bed, privately and tenderly and proudly as he held a sleeping Donna closely. His human, fragile mate. A note of sadness echoed at the back of his mind. The Doctor willfully ignored it, for now. What mattered was the moment, the time they _could_ share together; and a Time Lord could appreciate that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to everyone who has enjoyed the story, and encouraged me with kudos and comments. :)
> 
> If the Doctor seemed a little OOC at times, it's the mating bond (and his subsequent attempt at repressing it) that makes him a lot more vulnerable and emotionally open. (That's how I justify it, lol.)
> 
> Additional thoughts on how this canon divergence would play out: through their bond, the Doctor is able to stabilize Donna after the metacrisis and they live happily ever after (until the relationship ends naturally and Eleven can go on to live his new life; clean slate for bonding but still fond of Donna in memory as a past mate. For Time Lord mates, I think they could just reaffirm a bond every time one of the pair regenerates, akin to reaffirming wedding vows). Also, Tentoo as a separate incarnation of the Doctor would not carry the mating bond with Donna, so he would be happy with Rose. (Just thought I'd clear that up.) :)


End file.
